Shadow Lands Trilogy

by Simon Lister

  Merdynn finished and after a moment’s pause everyone started talking to each other across the table, debating all they had heard. How could such an unlikely tale be true? Surely some tale or myth would remain if what Merdynn and the Cithol Lord had asserted were true? Why had the Adren army come to their shores? The questions fired back and forth, few of them entirely believed all Merdynn had said and they used different parts of the tale to support whichever argument they were putting forward.

  Lord Venning sat with head bowed as small groups debated noisily around him. Merdynn looked oblivious to his surroundings, lost once again in the tales he had not told. Arthur looked across at Cei and shook his head then got up and poured himself a cup of wine, his back turned to the room.

  The debating continued for hours and more food and wine were brought in. The gathered counsellors put question after question to Merdynn and Lord Venning but their answers only seemed to deepen the divided opinions. Arthur left the council for an hour or so and walked down to the river looking for peace and quiet in which to ponder the best course ahead.

  Once he had decided he returned to the council room and made his way to Ceinwen. He leant down and whispered to her, ‘Find Mar’h and get the war band saddled and on the Westway. Do it quickly, there’s no time for them to tarry or to say their farewells.’

  Ceinwen nodded and left the room unnoticed. Arthur raised his voice and the debating died down, ‘We must decide what is to be done.’

  ‘And what would you suggest Warlord of Wessex?’ the king replied.

  ‘Cei and I will take our warriors to the Causeway, some we’ll leave there to help build and defend the Gates while the rest of us will ride across the Causeway to discover what happened to the Belgae and to find out the strength of these Adren armies and what their designs are.’

  ‘And leave Britain unprotected?’ Maldred replied.

  ‘No, I suggest that half your war band go across the Western Seas with the people who take the journey west and the rest stay at Caer Sulis to protect the winter stores and those that remain.’

  ‘Do you indeed? Surely a plan the Uathach will much admire.’

  ‘The greater danger now lies to the East. We need to know if the Belgae were attacked and if any survived. We need to know how many Adren we face, and we need to know when we will have to face them. We have no other choices but to cross the Causeway or wait like animals selected for slaughter. Half your warriors will have to suffice against any Uathach raiders.’

  Much to the surprise of the gathered counsellors and to Merdynn’s suspicion, the king agreed.

  ‘Then so be it, Arthur of Wessex. I’ll take the peoples west with half of my warriors after the Lughnasa festival. If you’re to travel the Shadow Lands in winter then you best leave now while the roads are still free of snow.’ The king waved a hand as if to dismiss both Arthur and all that had been said at the council. His mind was turning over the strategy he had long pondered and he marvelled at how such ill tidings could prove to be so well timed.

  Cei, Leah and Ceinwen stood to leave but Arthur stared sightlessly at the king. Lord Venning watched Arthur intently as the king said, ‘We hope to see you at Imbolc when we light the flame of sunrise.’

  Arthur stared at Maldred for a second longer, understanding now why he had agreed to his plan, then turned his back on the king and left the council.

  Chapter Five

  Mar’h was outside the king’s house waiting for them. He had brought Arthur’s horse with him. Arthur strode up to him while Cei collected his weapons from the king’s men.

  ‘Are they gathering?’ Something in Arthur’s voice or appearance made Mar’h take a step backward.

  ‘Yes, Arthur, Ceinwen’s leading them onto the Westway.’

  Arthur turned to Cei and Leah, ‘We’ll head for the Causeway straight away. Get your spear riders together and catch up with us on the Westway.’

  Cei nodded and left with Leah to gather his war band together.

  Arthur turned back to Mar’h, ‘We’re going into the Shadow Lands. We’ll collect our winter provisions from Caer Cadarn on the way but I want you to speak to the blacksmith, Laethrig. He cannot make the journey west. I want him and his people to start making ready for war. We’ll need swords, shields, spears, and arrows – he’ll know what to prepare and we’ll need as many as he can possibly make over the winter. Get him to try to convince the Anglian smith to do the same as well. And we’ll need battle jerkins – the kind with strips of hardened iron woven into them.

  ‘The king doesn’t need to know about any of this. When you’ve done this, requisition any extra supplies you can and take them to the Causeway. We may still be there and if not, we’ll be back at some stage to replenish our stores.’ As he finished saying this he jumped up onto his horse and taking the reins brought it around, ‘I’ll see you at the Gates.’

  Mar’h started to reply but Arthur was already riding for the Westway. As Arthur departed, Merdynn and the Cithol Lord came out of the king’s house.

  ‘Well, that all went fairly smoothly I think,’ Merdynn said, brushing imagined dirt from the front of his cloak. Lord Venning turned his cowled face to Merdynn but Mar’h couldn’t see his expression.

  ‘So, Mar’h, where’s the best, darkest and quietest place to get some food in Caer Sulis these days?’

  ‘I can show you if you’ll wait for Laethrig to join us, I have a message for him.’

  ‘From Arthur?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thought there might be.’

  ‘What happened in there? Arthur came out looking like he wanted to murder.’

  ‘Did he indeed? Murder whom?’

  ‘It didn’t look like he was overly concerned who he murdered. And I wasn’t going to enquire of him either.’

  ‘Yes, well, it appears there’s a conflict of interest within the council. Ah, here’s the smithy. Laethrig! Join us for a meal.’

  Laethrig looked over and strode across to join them. He was the war band’s blacksmith and armourer and as befitted his trade he was a big man, broad across the chest with thick muscled arms that were invariably bare to the elbow and covered in a dense growth of black hair that was frequently singed by the searing blasts from the furnaces as he tamed and moulded the unwilling metals to his designs. His luxuriant black beard fared little better.

  The four of them walked off into the gathering gloom of Caer Sulis. The presence of Merdynn kept inquisitive villagers away and Lord Venning walked through the town with no one the wiser that the Cithol Lord walked amongst them.

  *

  Arthur’s war band had gathered on the Westway just outside of the town. With some of their number at the Causeway and others fallen at Eald there were less than sixty waiting for Arthur. They were standing in small groups by their horses and speculating on why they had been brought together only hours before the Lughnasa festivities began. Any farewells they had managed were rushed and their families had been unhappy at the sudden and unexplained departure. Some had asked Morgund what the rush was all about but, knowing as little as they did, he had just shrugged and told them to wait for Arthur. They did not have to wait long.

  The small crowd that had formed, curious to see why the Wessex warriors had gathered, suddenly divided as Arthur’s horse thundered through them. Arthur brought his horse up sharply in front of Morgund who had been talking to Ethain and Tomas.

  ‘We’re riding east,’ Arthur said to them.

  Morgund, seeing the look on Arthur’s face just nodded.

  ‘East?’ Ethain asked, clearly surprised and taken aback. Morgund closed his eyes.

  Arthur stared at Ethain then said loud enough for those around to hear, ‘Whitehorse Hill then on across the Causeway into the Shadow Lands.’

  As the warriors mounted their horses and Arthur rode to the front to join Ceinwen, word spread that they were going east. Morgund looked across at the hundred or so who witnessed their departure. He thought that this many mounted warriors must
look impressive to them but privately he thought that sixty warriors riding east was a pitiful number. He had seen the strength of the enemy at Eald and the war band simply was not strong enough to be going east to meet them but he kept his thoughts to himself and caught up with Elowen who was riding with Tomas and Ethain.

  As they rode up the gentle slope away from Caer Sulis and into the surrounding hills he cast a glance backward. He could hear the clear bell of the Great Hall calling out across the valley summoning the peoples to the feast. In the descending gloom he saw the fires and torches congregating around the King’s Hall as the peoples of Britain made ready for the celebration of Lughnasa. He wondered idly what next Lughnasa would bring. Would they be celebrating still or would the Shadow Land army have carved their way to Caer Sulis? He took a deep breath and scratched at his growing beard. Either way, he thought, he would make damned sure he would be around to see in next Lughnasa.

  ‘You don’t look too happy about crossing the Causeway, Morgund,’ Tomas said smiling at him. Morgund just snorted.

  ‘He’s old, he’s worried about the cold. Looking forward to a comfortable winter fire weren’t you?’ Elowen chided.

  ‘You children haven’t been east to the Shadow Lands in winter have you?’ Morgund replied.

  ‘No, but it’s about time we did – there’s nothing to do here in the winter months but listen to you ancients recount unlikely tales from your travels. It’s time we made our own unlikely tales,’ Tomas said.

  ‘Gods! Weren’t you three at Eald? Have you forgotten already?’ Morgund was normally quite happy to exchange banter with the younger warriors but none of them had travelled east in the darkness before and he harboured serious doubts about the wisdom of going across the Causeway to fight an uneven battle and his concern showed in his voice.

  Ethain remained quiet but took a long look at Morgund. Morgund glanced at him and noted how scared he seemed. He looked away cursing to himself; two youths too stupid to realise the danger and one who will be paralysed by fear. He had a sudden urge for the company of Balor or Mar’h. Elowen was trying to work up some enthusiasm from Ethain and Morgund decided to drop his pace and slip back to the group behind them.

  They breasted the low hill and the strengthening wind from the West blew his cloak around him with the promise of the cold to come. He shivered and fastened his light cloak around himself. Before them the sun had finally met the distant horizon, weakly lighting the eastern clouds in pale yellows and washed reds. Morgund had been east before in winter and had no wish to do so again. The wind pushed at his back as if urging him towards the East and the journey across the Causeway.

  Ethain too was questioning the merits of heading east and he could feel the beginnings of panic welling up inside him. He nodded and grunted at appropriate points as Elowen spoke excitedly to him but his mind was elsewhere. He was comparing his own feelings to those of the rest of the war band. The riders near him, all seasoned veterans apart from his two friends, seemed genuinely in high spirits. Their talk was confident and loud, punctuated with laughter and derisory remarks to each other.

  Ethain was puzzled and worried by this. He could not dispel the memory of the nightmare attack on Eald or the unexpected suddenness of it. The memory of the vicious and unmerciful slaughter made him feel sick again and he consciously swallowed back the rising bile. He had seen people he had known all his life hacked down in the initial onslaught. He had seen villagers just stand stationary in shock as the Adren swords cut them down. He could not match his own feelings with the good-humoured nonchalance surrounding him. Only Morgund struck him as not being excited about the prospect of going east. He cast a glance back at the big warrior now riding behind them. He certainly did not seem scared, brooding perhaps, but not afraid. Ethain realised he was scared, scared sick at the thought of it and finally came to the same concluding thought as Morgund: was it wise to confront an enemy that outnumbered them, in winter and far from home. And did he have to go? He spent the rest of the journey to Whitehorse Hill pondering on ways to avoid the expedition into the Shadow Lands and trying to hide those same thoughts from Elowen and Tomas.

  Ceinwen was riding up front with Arthur and Llud. They were talking about the supplies they would need for travelling in the Shadow Lands. Ceinwen knew Llud from years ago - he had been with the war band all his life and Ceinwen was glad to find someone she knew from the old days. His father and grandfather had been with the Wessex warriors before him and no doubt his young sons would follow too. He was older than both Arthur and Ceinwen with short strands of gray hair above his ears and around the back of his head. He had not questioned Arthur why they were heading east or what the aim of their mission was. It was enough for him to know they were going and he only wanted to make sure they had everything they might need for winter travelling. Together with Arthur he listed all they should take and made a mental note of the various items to ready once they reached Caer Cadarn.

  Ceinwen observed them quietly, watching as the outward signs of Arthur’s unspoken anger slowly ebbed as he dealt with the practicalities before them. She herself still felt angry with the king. From the first he had taunted Arthur, seeking retaliation from him and she didn’t really understand why. Nor had she been at the council at the end and wondered what had been said to so anger Arthur. She no longer knew Arthur as well as Trevenna and Cei did, but she knew what his anger was like. She knew that his rage either broke upon people like a sudden, violent storm or burned with the slow, hidden flames that would not be quelled until the source was consumed. It was the source that concerned her for she feared it was the king himself and that’s what she failed to understand: why would the king court such anger?

  She wondered if perhaps Maldred wished to have Arthur removed as the Wessex Warlord. It was true that he had never forgiven Arthur for challenging and killing Saltran but the king only had the right to depose the Wessex Warlord if Arthur directly crossed the throne. Ceinwen shuddered involuntarily; if Maldred was the source of Arthur’s anger, if the king had finally goaded Arthur into opposing him, then it could only go ill for the king, and Britain would be plunged into chaos. She felt she needed to talk to Arthur away from the others to try to determine how much of what she feared was true. She knew this would be difficult. Unless Arthur had changed dramatically over the years she knew he rarely talked openly of what he thought, felt or planned and while he listened to other’s opinions he invariably kept to his own counsel on most matters. Ceinwen felt it was a curious contradiction that it seemed he could see into other people’s hearts and thoughts almost with ease yet few or none could claim the reverse.

  She looked across at Arthur as he talked to Llud and allowed herself to recall the time when as a young woman she had fallen in love with him. He too had been young and yet, in spite of Saltran’s obvious disfavour, he had already been a captain in the Wessex war band for over three years. She had admired the way he held the older warriors’ respect yet felt drawn by his vulnerability as a young man leading those much older than himself. They were together for some time but, in retrospect, she realised he had always seemed distracted and never truly open to her. It felt to her as if he were waiting for something or someone else but she had convinced herself otherwise and came to believe that Arthur returned what she felt for him.

  They had had no children and after one winter apart, when she had gone across the Western Seas and he had stayed in Britain, she had returned to find that he had left her for some woman from a Wessex fishing village who was in her mid-thirties with three grown sons of her own.

  It had broken her heart and it gave her little comfort that Arthur didn’t stay long with the Wessex woman, although it was rumoured he stayed long enough for her to become pregnant. Years later when time had finally convinced her that, like so many others, she was unable to have children she had begun to wonder if that was the reason why Arthur had left her.

  By then she was married to Andala. They had met in Caer Sulis and he had fallen in lov
e with her immediately. She had settled for his love and she had no regrets even though she never felt for him as she once had for Arthur. Andala loved her and she had needed that. He had never stopped loving her and she had been happy enough in her home across the Causeway raising her adopted daughter, Caja, and helping to run the village. Every day she had told herself that she didn’t miss the war band or her old life. Occasionally she would cautiously admit to herself that if she did miss the excitement and unpredictability of her former life she certainly didn’t miss the violence and death that so often accompanied it. But even in the quiet life across the Causeway she had ultimately been unable to avoid the violence and death; the irony sickened her.

  ‘Gathering wool, little Ceinwen?’

  Ceinwen started, both Llud and Arthur were looking at her. Llud, who had spoken to her, was smiling, Arthur just watched her. She felt unnecessarily panicked, clearly a question had been asked and she had no idea what it was. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they both knew what she had previously been thinking about and she could feel her cheeks flushing with guilt and turned defensively on Llud, ‘I’m not so little that I couldn’t run rings around you old man.’

  ‘True, you could run rings around me. If dancing in rings were the contest, little Ceinwen!’ Llud said still smiling at her. They continued their banter and Arthur stared ahead at the sun on the horizon, setting over the Shadow Lands in the East. It would sink below the horizon within a few days, the ships would leave the Haven for the West and darkness would steal, day by day, over Britain. Arthur scratched at his beard and looked behind him at the sound of thundering hooves. Elowen and Tomas went galloping by. They were not that far from Whitehorse Hill and clearly a challenge had been issued. Cries of encouragement or derision followed them. Arthur was surprised that Ethain was not also in the race but paid it little attention.